It Only Takes A Little To Find The Heart Within
by broken5pieces
Summary: An infant Harry Potter makes a heartbreaking wish. He is the only one who has the power to defeat the Dark Lord. He does, only in a way most found unexpected. Harry Potter AU.
1. Unexpected Roommate

Disclaimer: No I don't

"Tom," the Matron's voice sounded a little amused. Tom paused in the middle of the stairs and gave her a suspicious look.

"Yes, Matron?"

The woman turned around to give Tom a view of the bundle she carried in her arms.

"This is Harry. That's the only name there was on the piece of paper I found on him." She gave the baby a soft smile. "I'm going to place him in your room, alright? There is no room anywhere else in the Orphanage."

Tom dropped the book he was carrying. "You're kidding," he said flatly.

"No I'm not Tom," the Matron sang cheerfully. Oh yes, she looked entirely too smug. Albus Bloody Too Many Names Dumbledore had given her a way to contact him when Tom was 'safely' dropped off in the Orphanage. The blasted old coot had told her to contact him as soon as possible if there was any trouble. Dumbledore had given him a _look _and wished Tom a good holiday. Tom had wished Dumbledore to have a _very good _holiday too. His Professor's lips tightened and bid them goodbye.

"It's alright, boy. It's just a baby. Miss Ellie will be doing most of the work. But," the Matron's amusement vanished as she looked Tom straight in the eye, "if I or Miss Ellie find anything funny going on Tom, you will not be liking the consequences."

Tom almost scoffed. She couldn't protect him when he was younger. The daft woman thought she could shelter this- this infant? From _him_? Tom smiled.

"Of course not, Matron. I will take utmost care of," Tom hid his grimace, "_Harry_."

"Good!" The Matron immediately switched back to being cheerful, causing Tom to roll his eyes. Unseen of course. Tom's classmates in Hogwarts had often wondered how he was so capricious. They wouldn't have believed that he had learned it from the bipolar Matron from Wool's Orphanage.

Tom could have tried threatening the Matron. But perhaps it would not be one of his best ideas, especially with Dumbledore watching him so closely. But it wasn't like _he _had murdered Warren. Her demise was an unfortunate accident. He didn't even get the chance to make a Horcrux out of her death.

Tom had spent hours after the incident, having a long, nice chat with the Basilisk, who insisted on being called _Flower_. Why, the great founder Salazar Slytherin had ever decided to call his pet Basilisk that, Tom would never know.

Tom was jolted out of his thoughts as the Matron unceremoniously dumped the baby in his hands.

"I already fed him," she told him without a pause, thrusting a warm bottle of milk at Tom. "Feed him again in a few hours. Call Miss Ellie or me if you need anything."

Tom watched her go, gaping at her back. She might as well have handed him a ticking bomb. What the hell was he going to do with the thing? At least with an explosive, he could have bombed this dratted place.

Tom looked down at the bundle. He almost dropped the thing in shock as two unnatural green eyes peered back at him.

"Er," Tom said, tucking in the bottle in his old sweater and held the baby away from him.

"If you make even a little peep, you frail little Muggle, I will make you regret it. Understand me?"

The baby blinked back sleepily at him. Tom bit back a groan. What was the use of threatening the thing if it couldn't even understand him? It didn't even react to his tone, which even made the seventh year Slytherins piss in their trousers.

Tom stomped up to his room. With his shoulder, he slammed the door closed. Sure enough, inside there was a little crib that looked like it was going to fall apart any minute, let alone carry an infant. Tom smirked and dropped the baby in. At least he wouldn't be blamed for the thing's death if the cradle broke while it slept in it.

The baby sat still in the crib, looking up solemnly at Tom. It looked a few months old, but if it was already sitting up, Tom guessed the infant was around a year old.

"Guess I'm stuck with you," Tom told the babe. "Seems like nobody wanted you either."

The baby tilted its head at him, looking much too serious for something its age. Tom felt a pang go off in his chest. Shaking his head, he sat on his ratty, worn-out desk chair, and carefully started on his Transfiguration homework.

Tom woke up, sweating in the dark. He shook away the remnants of his dream away, the dark, unforgiving eyes of Dumbledore as he held Tom's diary, it's vessel meaning to be a Horcrux.

Tom scowled at the peelings of paint of his room's ceiling. He got up, cursing under his breath as he paced around his bare, disgusting Muggle room. He needed to act quickly. He had to immortality to accomplish his goals. A movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Tom went closer to the crib, looking back at the baby who was sitting up in its cot, studying him solemnly as it stared up at him.

"You're not very normal for a child, are you?" Tom asked softly, feeling immediately foolish that he had done so. He had already fed the baby, wincing and cursing softly the entire time he did it. The child had watched him the whole time with wide eyes, swallowing his milk obediently. In the end, he made a small, soft hiccup and after that made no other sound. It seemed he was following Tom's orders to not make a single peep. Which was ridiculous, really.

The nineteen-year-old, Ellie had knocked quietly on his door a little later to change and freshen up the infant. It was a good thing he wasn't in charge of that, otherwise, bomb or not, Tom would have burned the entire Orphanage and the street along with it. Blast the Ministry of Magic and it's half-witted rules.

All of a sudden, the baby thrust it's tiny arms at him, the universal gesture to be carried up.

"Oh, no you don't," Tom snarled quietly. The infant immediately put it's arms down but made an adorable pout, Tom's treacherous mind whispered.

"Oh Merlin," Tom clutched his head as the baby thrust his arms forward again when he didn't do anything.

"This isn't happening."

The baby's bottom lip protruded, and Tom had a horrible flash of Dumbledore striding into the Orphanage and cursing him for causing a helpless Muggle infant to cry. Damn Dumbledore for giving the Matron a way to contact him.

"Damn you too," Tom hissed as he lifted the baby in his arms. "If you take a piss on me," Tom warned, "even the great Dumbledore will be unable to save you."

The baby gave a little giggle and clapped its hands. Tom slammed his forehead on the wall closest to him.

"Only I," he told the baby wearily, "would be in charge of an infant who cannot understand when someone means them bodily harm."

The baby giggled again, pressing its face into Tom's chest. Tom resisted the urge to make a similar giggling sound because his chest positively tickled. But for some reason, something inside him inexplicably warmed in the cold, lonely Muggle room.

* * *

"Aww," Tom woke up to a familiar unbearable smug and amused voice.

"They look so cute! Who would have ever thought, that _the_ Tom Riddle would be caught snuggling an infant!"

There was a click and a light flashed. Tom opened his eyes and snarled at _Miss_ Ellie, who shrieked and dropped her camera.

"How dare you?" He hissed, but was distracted as the baby in his arms (what the hell was he doing last night?) gave a loud yawn.

The Matron clapped her hands, scarily imitating said baby from last night. She sat down on his bed, causing Tom to bite back another snarl.

"Come here, you little tyke," the Matron crooned at the baby. She took the child from Tom, leaving him to feel slightly cold.

"Hello, little Harry. And how are you today?" The baby just blinked slowly, looking sideways at Tom, as if he was saying, 'save me from this crazy old bat.'

Tom smirked. "Matron," he said smoothly, all remnants of sleep gone from his eyes, "I assure you, the infant is being extremely well taken care of. You can be sure to tell my Professor that."

The Matron gave him a smile. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will be delighted to hear that Tom. He told me he was going to contact me every few weeks to see if you were settling in well. Professor Dumbledore cares a lot about your well-being Tom."

Tom grimaced. He quickly put on a smile. "Of course, Matron. _We_ have an exceptionally extraordinary relationship."

"Good, good," the Matron beamed. "Now I must take my leave. Billy is sick and I have to call the Doctor. Ellie dear, you be sure to help Tom with Harry alright? Goodbye!" She handed the baby to Ellie who squirmed in the young woman's hands.

Tom kept his smile up until he was sure she had left. Then he turned to Ellie who gave an audible gulp. Tom gave her a smile of satisfaction.

At least not all of his intimidating techniques hadn't fled from him during the night. But at that dratted moment, the imbecilic baby gave him a big smirk. Ellie gave the babe a look of wonder as if the child had just won a staring contest with Satan.

"Well get on with it," he snapped at her and she quickly nodded, giving him a tiny curtsy and hurried to change the child's nappy.

Finally, when they were alone in the room, Tom turned to the child. "I'll feed you now and then I will leave you in your cot. I have Potions work to do and you will- will do whatever you do to keep yourself occupied. I trust you can do that?"

The baby gave him such a complete look of disdain, Tom's eyebrows rose. "You most definitely are unusual," he murmured as he tilted the milk bottle into the child's lips. The baby stared at him like last time, his eyes suddenly wide and solemn.

"It's too bad you have such a common Muggle name. With such elegant features, I'd have thought you were too beautiful to have such a name. I've never seen eyes quite like yours."

After feeding, the baby made a motion with his arms.

"What do you want?" Tom asked curiously. The child gestured toward Tom's desk. His eyebrows rose against his will again. "You want to watch me work?"

The baby kept reaching towards his desk. With a huff of amusement, Tom lifted the baby up and placed him on a stool that he never used and scooted him near the desk.

"Don't break your neck," Tom apprised him. "I will not be sent to Azkaban because you decided to be a reckless Gryffindor. I despise such idiots. Undoubtedly you are one of them."

The boy just blinked and with his chubby hands, he grabbed an ink pot.

"Hey!" Tom tried to grab it back. The baby made a sound that sounded a lot like a raspberry. However, as soon as Tom grabbed back the bottle, the baby toppled over. Tom watched in horror as the baby fell in almost slow motion. Miraculously, the boy didn't end up being splattered on the floor, instead, ending up on Tom's bed. The infant made a gurgling noise, clapping his hands excitedly.

Tom stared at him, his jaw open. He had never been so astonished in his life.

"Well," Tom said after he picked his jaw off the floor. "You are full of surprises, aren't you, little Harry?" He put his ink bottle back on the desk, all interest in doing his homework gone with this unexpected situation.

Tom and the baby stared at each other for almost a full minute.

"How old are you anyway?" Tom asked, breaking the silence as the baby tilted its head at him.

"You should be talking by now. You seem intelligent enough."

Harry burped. Tom made a noise of disgust and then snapped his head back to the babe. He had started thinking of the child as Harry.

"That won't do," he said gravely. "Perhaps Harrison?" The child looked offended.

"No?" Tom inquired, wondering when the world went so crazy that he found himself debating with an infant on what wizarding name would fit him.

"You're very powerful," he told the baby absentmindedly. "It has to be a good, strong pureblooded name."

The baby looked bored, patting its cheeks. It reached out towards Tom, who automatically hugged the baby to his chest.

"Maybe Harold."

The child sneezed derisively.

"How in Merlin's name did you end up here anyway?" Tom wondered. Of course, nobody answered him back.

When all the orphans were called down for breakfast, Tom carried the baby downstairs, hiding his smirk as most of them shot them astonished or in some cases, alarmed looks.

With one arm around the child next to him, Tom ate his oatmeal calmly, still inwardly gloating as children glanced at the baby and him often.

"Well Harvey," Tom accidentally brushed the child's hair, ignoring it's indignant expression, "this is-" Tom froze.

His hand brushed a large scar on the child's forehead. It was shaped like a lightning bolt as if it were carved on the baby's forehead.

He lifted the child up, storming up to the Matron. "What. Is. This?" Tom spoke with icy calm as he lifted Harry's fringe to show her the dreadful scar.

She gave a gasp. The cafeteria was unusually quiet, everyone's eyes on them. "I- I have no idea. We must get him to a doctor."

Caretaker Luis Norn, who hated Tom's guts and likewise, spoke up, "how do we know you didn't do it, Tom?"

"Does this _wound_ look new to you, Caretaker?" Tom sneered. "I would have thought to supervise an Orphanage for ten years would have educated you on how recent a wound was acquired? Apparently not," Tom drawled, his eyes flashing. All he could see was that horrifying scar on the child's head. Who had done it? How had he not noticed? He distracted himself by picturing a slow and gruesome death for the one responsible.

"Enough!" The Matron thundered. "Tom, take Harry to your room. A Doctor will be by shortly."

Tom didn't dein a reply, turning away dramatically and left the cafeteria.

In his room, Tom had found that Harry had spilled some oatmeal on his clothes. Tom had fed him a few spoons and he had gobbled it all up happily.

"You are so grubby," Tom muttered, pulling off the child's oversized shirt. "Now, I'm sure I saw a few clothes meant for you tucked away here," he mumbled to himself, looking at the pile near his wardrobe.

"Revolting," Tom hissed as he held up a blue shirt with a yellow elephant stitched in its center. He wheeled towards the baby and then stopped short. He looked closer at the baby's apparent protruding ribs. However, that was not what caught Tom's attention. There were bruises all over the child's body. Some were fading away, and others were vivid purple, only a few days old. He hissed, peering closer. They looked like handprints. Adult ones.

Tom closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing. He opened them when he felt small, wet hands patting his cheeks. The baby's face was close to his, and Tom breathed him in, the mingling scent of oatmeal and baby smell. He pulled the child's fists close to his chest and let his cheek rest on it's wild, messy dark hair. Something was happening to Tom. Something was unraveling itself within him, making him feel warm and unexpectedly light. His chest was filled with something he couldn't for the life of him identify and Tom felt so much of it that it hurt.

"Little one," he whispered into the boy's hair, "what in Merlin's name are you doing to me?"

He caressed the child's back, feeling the infant rumble, almost like a content cat.


	2. Little One

Disclaimer: No, I don't.

"I can bandage Harry's superficial wounds, give you some salves to apply twice a day," Doctor Taylor told the Matron gravely. He was a reserved man, level-headed but silent, not one to speak just to fill up the silence. Tom liked him well enough for a Muggle, even respected him a little for his quiet stature. He had frightened Tom when he was younger, as many children got sick often at the Orphanage and usually Doctor Taylor was called in for the special cases. Many had died due to various illnesses and Tom had always been terrified that he might have been next. Now he knew he was a wizard, and Muggle diseases were not worth Tom's time.

"The scar on his forehead seems to be permanent I'm afraid unless you'd prefer cutting the boy's head up. No idea what might have caused it. It looks like it was carved or burned onto him," Doctor Taylor sighed.

"I hate it when children are hurt by the people who are supposed to be caring for them. It is only a good thing that he was left in the Orphanage, Matron. I shudder to think what would have happened if Harry was left with his previous _caretakers_," the Doctor sneered.

Tom ruffled Harry's hair, all the while snarling inside with a temper that surprised him. He never really cared for the well being of his acquaintances in Hogwarts, however amusing they were. He was reserved with everyone and took care to show people he could only partially trust his true nature. Or to scare the shit out of his enemies. Most of the school knew not to mess with him. And now, he seemed to have fallen for this brat that somehow wormed into his heart in less than a matter of a day. Ridiculous.

"I believe one of his ribs are broken, but I must scan him to be sure," Tom snapped his attention back to the Doctor, who was still looking grave.

"Harry is an extremely quiet child. I cannot even tell if he is in pain." It was true. Throughout the entire examination, the child had sat unnaturally still, his queer eyes tracking Doctor Taylor's every move.

"Isn't he supposed to be well on his way to speak in sentences?" Tom spoke up suddenly. "It's most unbecoming for his age to not to utter a single word."

"It is a possibility," Doctor Taylor said evenly, facing Tom, "that Harry has to feel more comfortable if he is to speak. I suppose he did not have much to say where he previously lived."

"So," Tom drawled, "how do I get him to talk?"

"It is different for every situation," the Doctor sounded a little amused, exchanging a glance with the Matron, which had Tom narrowing his eyes. "But the gist of it is to make Harry feel more relaxed, comfortable, and take more part in social interactions. However, that is not what's more important at this moment. I must take the child to my office to take an x-ray."

"I will accompany you as well," Tom said immediately, scowling a little as the Matron hid an obvious smile.

"If you say so," the Doctor said steadily. "Are you his brother or a close relative?"

"It is none of your concern," Tom sneered at him.

The Matron straightened up, "Tom! Show some respect please!"

"It's alright Matron. I have to say, I'd never thought the day would come that I'd see Tom Riddle caring for a living being," the Doctor shot Tom an amused look.

How dare this man presume to know so much about him? The Doctor's next few sentences left him feeling indignant instead.

"Young man, I have treated many injuries you have inflicted on some of the children here, in your younger years. I'll have to admit I was concerned about you. It is good that this visit has assuaged some of my worries," Doctor Taylor gave Tom a small smile.

"Did you not think that if it was indeed I who injured them, they might have deserved it?" Tom asked icily.

"I do not believe in retribution."

Tom gave the Doctor a smile that did not reach his eyes. "Good for you."

The Matron spoke up, apparently not happy about being ignored, "I suppose you believe in applying diplomacy during such situations, Doctor?"

She gave Tom a significant look, which she probably thought was subtle. Tom felt his hackles rise. These ignorant idiots should have been in his position when he was younger, then he'd see what _diplomacy_ they would apply. Tom could still feel the pain, terror, and oh the intoxicating anger he had felt in those benighted muggle children's hands. Even then Tom _knew_ he was superior to them. He made sure they knew as well soon enough. He remembered the first time he had felt the thrill and dark pleasure and satisfaction in hearing their pained cries and the absolute fear in their eyes as he, Tom towered over them.

Tom crossed his arms. "If we are done discussing _unfortunate accidents _that occurred several years ago and has nothing to do with the current situation, I believe the child that is _right now_ in pain needs more attention."

The Matron at least had the decency to look ashamed. Doctor Taylor cleared his throat and got straight to business.

"Right. I will carry harry so that we don't jostle him much if his rib is indeed broken. My car is parked right outside Tom, and we might be in my office for a while so you may bring any items Harry may need," he spoke with brisk efficiency, packing back the medical supplies he had brought.

"Miss Ellie will accompany you both as she is in charge of the younger ones," the Matron said and Tom wasn't sure whether or not he should feel relieved or annoyed. Was she implying that he couldn't care for a mere baby? On the other hand, Tom could already feel the disgust and panic at the thought of changing a nappy or the like.

"Yes, yes that will be fine. I will now take my leave Matron," Doctor Taylor said distractedly as he carefully picked up the baby. The child stiffened in his arms and closed its eyes. Tom felt his heart clench in _sympathy_? He inwardly shook his head and pushed the disgustingly sentimental feelings away. He couldn't afford to contemplate on them now.

The Matron had gone off, presumably to fetch the girl. The Doctor nodded to Tom and the last thing he saw before the Doctor left the room was Harry opening his eyes to stare at him with some expression that conveyed betrayal and pain. Tom felt his breath knock out of him. He tried to get his breathing under control. What was with this moronic child that left Tom feeling as vulnerable as some weak primary-schooled muggle boy? Irritated, Tom flung the diaper bag that the child-minder girl left near his garish poster bed and stalked out of his room, flicking the door closed behind him.

* * *

Tom hid his anxiety as he scanned the images of the scan. The Doctor confirmed his fears when he said neutrally, "it looks like a fractured rib is plausible."

The girl beside Tom exhaled sharply. He ignored her to ask the Doctor, "how long will it take for it to heal?"

"Give or take seven to eight weeks," he turned to face Tom, "ice and compression wraps will do it. I will prescribe some pain medicine and teach you both the basics to help heal the rib faster. The healing process is slower because he is at a tender age."

"How come he doesn't look like he's in pain?" the girl asked in a near whisper, glancing at the child who was sitting quietly on the examination chair.

"It is most unusual," Doctor Taylor too turned toward the child, walking towards him. "Give him time and he will be comfortable enough to show basic emotions such as pain, distress, hunger, all reactions I'm positive his previous caretakers did not allow him to display. However, he coveys his moods quite well with Tom here, if I have observed correctly?"

Tom wasn't sure if he should have nodded. It didn't matter as the Doctor didn't stay long enough to notice or hear an answer.

The girl still looked stricken. "But that's awful," she whispered, her face so pale Tom could see her brown freckles darken in the dim lighting of the x-ray room.

Tom just sneered at her and chose to observe the child. The baby lifted its head up to meet his eyes. Tom could barely discern the distress that flicked in and out of his beautiful eyes. It seemed to Tom that the child was trying to school its expressions and Tom had to hide his amazement that someone so young could be well in touch with his emotions. If Tom hadn't been so trained to observe such small details, the pain would have escaped his notice. Then he felt the familiar anger as he remembered why the boy was so skilled in reigning in his emotions.

"Little one," Tom murmured so that the girl could not overhear.

The child reached out to him, something like relief in his eyes. Tom automatically wrapped his arms around the boy's back. He felt the child leaning on his chest and Tom closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing the little one's warmth. How could this small creature make him feel so different? For Merlin's sake, he only knew him for a day now.

Tom was sure the foolish girl behind him was smiling, so he let go of the child and glared hard at her for a good measure. She paled and looked away.

The Doctor entered the room, carrying some gauze. Tom grit his teeth. He would get this child to a Healer so they could properly heal the boy's wounds. Tom watched the Doctor carefully wrap the appendage and began to form a plan. The Knight Bus was out of option. Those moronic excuses for a wizard would not be able to drive slowly or carefully enough for a child as delicate as Harry. Tom couldn't apparate either. He tried before and it was exhilarating, but once again, the Ministry would notice. And Dumbledore would be informed. He would not go on a whim, following stupid Gryffindor urges just for the boy. Tom was reluctant to owl any of his followers, ahem, acquaintances as well. He didn't want any one of them near the Orphanage or even noticing him in the Muggle world.

Tom sighed. It seemed he would have to take a Muggle taxi.

* * *

"Take a good look at this stinky pub, Harry," Tom whispered to the child he was carrying. The boy's keen eyes took in everything in his view.

"This is the place you go to if you want to enter Diagon Alley. Behold the Leaky Cauldron."

Harry wasn't impressed.

Tom hummed in agreement, settling the boy more firmly on his hips. "You'd think wizards would have built a more _enchanting _entrance. I suppose magic knocked out the more artistic side of their dimwitted brains." _And common sense_, Tom thought, familiar with how the Wizarding World thought, or its lack thereof.

"We're going to enter through the Floo. There we'll get you a Healer to look at your bruises. I won't have such a fine wizard such as you walking injured around rampant muggles."

Tom paid for some Floo powder and then threw it into the fireplace. He stepped into the cool, tickling flames, ignoring Harry's startled look, and yelled in his most dignified voice, "St. Mungos!"

Healer Ambrose tutted around Harry. "What type of garbage would treat a child this way?" he demanded. He quickly healed up the broken rib and some of Harry's most recent injuries with some salving cream. He couldn't heal the older ones.

"And here are some nutrient potions," the Healer gave Tom some vials that looked murky and sludgy brown. "Give him one every day, right before he eats. He is extremely malnourished."

Tom nodded. The Healer handed him some more similar-looking vials.

"What's this?" he asked suspiciously.

"They are for older patients who are underweight. It's for you, my boy. You look healthier than your little brother though, but he's practically the definition of malnourishment. So that's not saying much."

Tom was affronted. He let the brother comment go though, so more questions wouldn't be asked, but, "underweight! I am perfectly normal weighted, I'll have you know. What kind of professional are you to-"

"And such a pale complexion! You need to get outside more often, my boy. Staying cooped up inside isn't healthy. You must be anemic. Here I'll give you more potions." The idiotic man went on, ignoring him.

Tom glowered. Harry giggled. Both the Healer and Tom looked up at the baby. It giggled again, reaching for Tom.

Tom sighed and tried to lift him up, but he was stopped because Harry seemed more interested in patting Tom's cheeks than being carried.

"I do not understand your preoccupation with touching my cheeks, little one," Tom told Harry dryly.

The Healer clapped his hands behind them. "Aw! You both are so cute!"

Tom reached for his wand.

* * *

Hi! Thank you for all your kind reviews. I was not very sure about the story, which is why I hadn't updated, but you guys convinced me it could be salvaged. I have a plan for where this is going now.


	3. Playmates and Decisions

Disclaimer: I will like Avada Kedavra someone just to okay. Don't keep reminding me.

"Tom." The Matron's voice was strained. Tom hummed noncommittedly.

"Tom," she said again, "did you take an injured baby, without telling anyone, outside for almost the entire day, yesterday?"

Tom closed the book he was reading and lifted up his head to stare at the Matron who barged into his peace and quiet. Harry was sleeping soundly next to him, a content smile fixed on his face. He had been exhausted from yesterday's adventures. A small smile grew on Tom's face as he recalled the spell he cast on the incompetent Healer they had the misfortune to meet.

The Matron cleared her throat loudly, distracting Tom from his amusement.

"So what if I did?" Tom asked dangerously, to her question.

"He's a child!" the Matron yelled at him. "For God's sake, Tom, anything could have happened. And I had no way of contacting you. Do you know how worried sick I was?"

Tom sneered. "You have tons of other _children _in here to care for. Don't worry about Harry. In fact, show him the same amount of care and concern you showed me, Matron."

The Matron was livid. "You are endangering the child. It was a mistake to ever put him here with you. Your past experiences say enough."

Brown eyes bled to crimson. "How dare you?" he hissed. "Look at the children here. They are starving because of the war and you are telling me Harry would be safer with you? I experienced your wonderful protection Matron. And look at how I turned out."

"Give Harry to me, Tom."

"Over my dead body," he snarled, ignoring the small, dismayed voice shouting in his head about his blatant display of possessiveness.

"I'll tell Professor Dumbledore," she informed him coldly.

"Oh, go ahead," Tom sneered. "Let's see what he can do," He hoped she would not see through his bluff. He blinked when she just smiled, her ire vanishing.

"Oh, Tom. I won't contact him. I've seen you with Harry and it's only been five days and you are already enamored with him. But he's not yours to keep, Tom. The child needs to socialize with children his own age. He can't be dependent on you forever. What will happen when you go back to that school of yours?"

Tom was thrown off balance by the Matron's change of tactics and was reluctantly impressed by her attempt of the good cop and bad cop. Though, he wondered if it was an act at all or just her crazy personality.

"I'll burn that bridge when I get to it. For now, it's none of your concern," Tom said stiffly. "And," he swallowed painfully, "Harry may _play_ with the children, if it will get him to talk."

Hopefully, that would make her pause to stop and rethink her decision to contact the barmy old coot.

"Wonderful!" the Matron smiled. "I will get Miss Ellie to bring in the little ones who are done with their feeding time to your room." She left the room, humming happily.

Tom stared at the spot she left in horror. Children. Muggle children. Filthy Muggle children in his room. Tom wondered if while he was reading he died and had somehow descended into hell without him noticing. Harry, of course, decided it was the perfect time to wake up. He yawned adorably (?) and stared sleepily at Tom with his wide, enchanting eyes.

Tom whimpered. "You're the cause of all my suffering," he whispered accusingly. Harry just blinked at him, and Tom was sure his expression was saying, 'you're so dramatic Tom.'

"It's true," he insisted. "You have no idea how many horrible things are happening to me because of you." Harry eeped and just fell on Tom's lap and stared up at him with a smile. Tom leaned closer towards him, but before he could speak, the child grabbed his cheeks with his small little fists and started patting them. Tom closed his eyes, breathing in mingling baby breath and warm milk.

There was a knock on his door. Tom quickly assumed a more dignified position, or as dignified as one could be with a baby on your lap that was patting your cheek and drawled, "come in."

The annoying girl, Eldie or whatever, walked in, holding a child who looked much bigger than Harry and two other children on her tow. Tom hid a shudder as he watched drool drip from the larger boy's mouth. The other two children, a girl, and a boy, who looked to be around three or four looked hesitantly at the older girl. They looked alike, so Tom presumed they were twins.

"Go on," the Missus said encouragingly, giving Tom a nervous look. She set the revolting boy she was holding on his bed and Tom had to bite back a snarl just as he did the last time the Matron sat on his bed. The girl gestured the twins to get on the bed as well. They did so, albeit reluctantly, the twin nearest to him giving Tom a wary look.

Harry watched all of this with a blank expression, though Tom could have sworn the child curled his lip at the bigger boy who was now making a slobbering mess of Tom's bed. Tom smirked, ignoring his own disdain. He pushed Harry towards the boy.

"Why don't you play, Harry," he said generously, giving Harry his widest smile. Harry gave him such a betrayed and dismayed look that Tom had to chuckle. The childminder watched their interaction with wide eyes.

"I hope you can occupy them for a while?" Tom inquired the girl, looking down at her even though he was on the bed and she was towering over all of them with her lanky limbs.

"Oh, yes," she gulped.

Tom smiled blandly. "Excellent." He picked up his Transfiguration book, which was spelled to show something else to Muggles, and resumed reading, blatantly ignoring Harry's looks of despair.

* * *

"T'im," was Harry's first word. Tom tried not to wallow himself in misery.

"Harry," he said very patiently. "I can handle Tom. Even Riddle his fine. Better yet, Marvolo. But for the love of Gallopin' Gorgons, please do not call me that monstrosity, Harry."

"T'im," Harry repeated, sucking on his thumb. Tom had long given up on forcing him out of the habit. And people accused him of being stubborn.

"T'im. T'im-"

"Oh for Merlin's sake!" Tom snarled and slapped a hand on the baby's mouth. The child stared at him with large, guileless eyes.

"I am not falling for that look," Tom warned. "I am a master at all types of deception, so I am absolutely immune to your power, no matter how wide you stretch those pretty little eyes of yours. In fact, I find your attempts to manipulating me pathetic."

Harry stared for another two seconds with big, adorable eyes, before laughing loudly and clapping his hands. His little pink feet quivered as his body trembled in excitement. Tom immediately let go of the child's mouth when he blew a large raspberry.

"Ack!" Tom shrieked (in an extremely manly way), staring at his sticky hand in horror. He turned accusing eyes towards Harry, who was giggling merrily, his left thumb firmly secured in his mouth.

"Disgusting brat," Tom muttered, rushing to the washroom so he could wash his hands of the slime. When he returned, the child was on his back, kicking its legs in the air. Harry, seeing Tom, tried to sit up, making nonsense sounds. Tom immediately helped him up and Harry's eyes lit up as he stared at Tom adoringly. As Tom leaned closer to the baby's face, the child took his thumb out of his mouth and placed his wet hand on Tom's cheeks.

"T'im!" Harry screamed, wildly patting Tom's face and the teenager closed his eyes resignedly, cursing his fate.

* * *

He could not sleep. Harry was breathing softly, fast asleep, curled near him. Tom could not put the child on the fraying crib without a good conscience, not if the blasted thing looked like it was going to fall apart any second even without any extra weight burdened on top of it.

Tom laid on his back, his brown eyes dull as he thought deeply. He was in love with Harry. He couldn't fool himself any longer.

Tom had never felt like this before. He was almost sure that what he was feeling was the same weak emotion that he had glimpsed in his classmates' eyes when they gazed at their partners or family members. The useless emotion that rendered every wizard and muggle alike to useless and pathetic beings. The emotion that Tom, himself had used to his advantage to hold leverage over his followers, ahem, acquaintances, whenever they held his ire. He had found it amusing when his classmates and even some children in the orphanage fell in its trap and always had seen them as pitiful for letting their emotions rule them.

Now, Tom had also fallen trapped. And for the first time in a long while, Tom felt unsure. He didn't like the feeling- no he wasn't sure about that either. The feeling had made him worried sick, his thoughts spirling in a frenzy when he imagined Harry in grave danger. But the feeling also made his chest warm and cause his lips to upturn naturally. Love made him feel needed and extremely possessive of Harry. And Merlin, he had tried. He had tried to distance himself from the child who wormed into his heart deeper every day, but one wobegone look from Harry, had him melting right into the baby's small hands.

And if he couldn't make himself distant and cold to Harry, if he couldn't even let the boy out of his sight for a mere ten minutes, how in Merlin's name was he going to leave _his_ child all alone in this cold, dreadful orphanage while he went to Hogwarts. And for the first time since he learned of magic, Tom contemplated of not going to Hogwarts. Because though Hogwarts was his home and he drank its walls and magic like a starving man every time he saw the castle again after his long summers, he had never felt this happiness- this love- he felt when he was with Harry.

Tom rolled over on to his side to stare at the sleeping child, who looked so tiny and innocent as his little fingers clutched Tom's muggle shirt tightly, and he felt his chest clutch something fierce that knocked his breath out.

He reached out to caress Harry's soft, dark locks of hair and whispered in the dark. "What are we going to do?"

The only answer that came was Harry's soft breathing as his tiny chest rhythmically rose and fell in deep sleep.


End file.
